Reunion
by Larry Parr
Summary: Stephen muses as he attends the annual Tomorrow People reunion.


The Disclaimer: these characters don't belong to me. I've taken liberties with their personalities and with events in the Tomorrow People universe. This is a crossover between the Classic and Next-Gen Tomorrow People series, hopefully offering some explanation as to why the two series are so different and providing a little continuity. This story takes place after "Tomorrow's Oblivion." Critiques are welcome.

_God, I hate reunions,_ Stephen thought. Habit made him shield this thought from the others. He took a draw on his pint and wondered why they always had these things in pubs. Alcohol and telepathy really did not mix, and the annual reunion usually ended with someone broadcasting thoughts that, however accurate, were really not meant for sharing. Barring that, someone would always end up jaunting into Buckingham Palace on a dare.

_Teleport,_ he had to remind himself. _The new kids are simply calling it teleporting._ _How woefully unpoetic._ Stephen shrugged to himself. John had always been obsessed with classic science fiction literature and adopted the term "jaunting" from some novel he had read. Glancing around the room, Stephen wondered if any of the painfully younger faces in the crowd had ever read anything that wasn't displayed on a computer monitor.

_Don't be so ageist, _he chided himself. _You're pushing fifty. These kids probably think you're some kind of dinosaur._

Another glance around the room confirmed the demographics of the gathering. They had grouped themselves along age lines, with very few crossovers. The new and the old. Stephen definitely felt included in the "old" camp. He studied the small knots of gatherers, clumped around tables or corners of the bar. There were the faces he recognized, and those that he didn't.

Mike and Hsui Tai were engaged in an animated conversation at the bar. Hsui Tai's melodic laughter was punctuated by Mike's gruff chuckles. Mike caught Stephen's eye and raised his glass in salute, with Hsui Tai joining him. Stephen lifted his glass in return.

_Care to join us?_

Stephen smiled inwardly at the telepathic invitation. For reasons that have forever gone unexplained, telepathy always manifested itself in the receiver's brain as an echo-like version of the sender's voice. Mike's voice came across loud and clear, sounding like he was speaking in a large tiled men's room. Stephen shook his head just enough to indicate no, and Mike smiled as if to say, "Well, when you've finished analyzing the crowd, join us," and returned his attention back to Hsui Tai.

Stephen turned on his stool and sat with his back against the bar, studying the crowd. Kenny, Tyso, and Andrew were seated at a table near the windows. Tyso caught his eye and gave an enthusiastic wave, with Kenny joining him a split-second later. Andrew was more formal; he lifted his glass and nodded in Stephen's direction. Stephen returned their greetings, promising himself he'd have a pint with them before the night was over.

It was almost a given that those three would bond; Tyso confided in Stephen that they had taken to calling themselves the "Left-Behinds" as an homage to their John-designated role throughout almost all of their adventures. During these gatherings, they had a running joke where if one of them left the table to purchase a round or hit the loo, he'd instruct the other two to stay behind and keep out of trouble, mimicking John's voice. Stephen found it hilarious, but John, predictably, was not amused and had stopped talking to all three of them.

Two tables over sat a trio of younger faces. Adam Newman and Ami Jackson were involved in what appeared to be a fairly serious conversation with a young blonde woman that Stephen didn't know. The parallels between Adam and John were obvious; both were natural leaders with considerable charisma and were the first of their respective generations to break out. However, Adam was unfettered by John's sometimes insufferable air of superiority and was more of a mentor and tutor to those who had followed.

It was too easy to draw comparisons between Ami and Elizabeth. Both were strong women of African heritage with fierce devotion to their moral foundations. Stephen looked around for Elizabeth, but she was absent for the time being. She usually showed up more than fashionably late, just in time to greet everyone before saying goodnight.

With her intrinsic diplomatic skills, Elizabeth had been one of the few of them to maintain close friendly bonds with just about everyone there. She had taken it upon herself to introduce the next-gens to the Galactic Federation and educate them on the multitude of worlds beyond their own. The bridge between the generations was built and maintained by Elizabeth, the consummate teacher.

Stephen didn't have to see John to know he was there. A lengthy telepathic relationship with someone had interesting side effects. Even without actively engaging in mental communication, Stephen felt John's presence nearby. He also felt the presence of Kenny and Tyso, and to a smaller extent, Mike. He would know when Elizabeth arrived, probably several seconds before the actual fact, and he would feel Carol's presence, if she were inclined to attend these gatherings and not avoid them religiously. Carol found the prospect "hopelessly depressing," and Stephen had to agree that she had a point.

The majority of Carol's feelings centered on John, who Stephen knew was lurking in a corner of the pub kept dark by telekinetic manipulation of the light. He would sit there the entire evening, not participating in conversation either vocally or mentally. John watched. He watched, and he drank. He drank until the depression got bad enough that he'd jaunt himself offworld and not return for months, only to reappear clean and sober and if not talkative, at least willing to communicate. John would never say where he went, and Stephen never asked. Most of the time John spent on the planet was with TIM.

TIM was the primary reason for John's crushed spirit. After several years without any new People breaking out, John had rounded up those of them who had not already gone offworld with the idea of traveling to the Galactic Trig to study and develop their skills in an environment that did not demand secrecy. They had already drawn the attention of the United Kingdom and United States governments and John was interested in letting the furor over homo superiors die down. Stephen agreed, his own time spent in isolation studying and developing his potential being limited by lack of knowledge.

It had seemed like a good idea to launch the satellite. It was Ginge's idea, really. "You got the lab, all down here in the Underground. How many times have you lot been caught like rats in a hole? Some bloke breaks in here, TIM's got no place to go. I'm too bleedin' old to be bustin' heads for you."

It made sense. They were leaving Earth with no one to mind the store. They transferred TIM to a new biomechanical environment and jaunted the entire structure into a high orbit. TIM was to monitor the progress of emerging homo superiors and provide assistance to anyone breaking out. He also broadcast a telepathic signal that would draw anyone randomly jaunting under the stress of breaking out to the satellite. It reassured John that he could leave Earth and someone would be left to watch over the emergence of new Tomorrow People. What they didn't anticipate was the suspicious nature of homo sapiens and their violent reactions to anything that wasn't part of their own closed world.

They were never able to get a satisfactory answer out of any of the governments with whom they had official relations. All they knew was a low-yield nuclear warhead was detonated in close proximity to the satellite, blasting it out of orbit and sending it crashing down onto an island in the South Pacific. TIM was effectively lobotomized, leaving him incapable of coherent speech or telepathy. The homing signal was skewed, so anyone stress-jaunting for the first time was rudely greeted by a ten-foot plunge into the ocean off shore.

John, being John, blamed himself for TIM's condition. After a brief turf dispute with Adam, who felt the satellite was "his" spaceship, John had spent countless hours with TIM, telepathically communicating to him much in the same way someone would talk to a coma victim. He hadn't been the same since they returned and discovered TIM's condition. Somewhere in his soul, Stephen doubted that John would ever fully recover from the loss. So he sat, sitting vigil in the deliberately darkened corner, unable to connect with his People yet unwilling to leave them to their own devices.

Stephen felt the electric tingle at the base of his neck that always advertised the arrival of a teleporter to telekinetically sensitive beings before he heard and saw the brief whip-crack of energy outside the pub's windows. Stephen grimaced briefly, stung by their naivety concerning teleportation when there were only four emerged homosuperiors on the planet and very little guidance on how to hone their talents.

John had spent a great deal of time and ingenuity on overcoming what he considered to be the drawbacks to jaunting. The belts and wristbands were designed to allow TIM to boost their range and provide accurate coordinates when a specific location was required. This artificially allowed them the range of fully developed telepaths as soon as they broke out. Just as any muscle in the body won't develop its full potential without exercise, their ability to jaunt without TIM's assistance was stunted from disuse. The only way to develop natural range and accuracy was to practice without artificial aids.

John also managed to mechanically suppress the effects of hyperspatial zonal shift, which caused anyone teleporting through hyperspace to enter or emerge with a brief burst of energy that escapes on either side before the opening between dimensions naturally seals itself behind the traveler. John had seen this as a handicap; a flash of light accompanied by a loud snapping sound was not the most subtle way to appear if stealth was required. What they didn't know was suppressing the shift dampened the natural boost of power that came from that zone in between normal space. Without it, they had robbed themselves of a force that would have allowed them to develop their power as intended. Carol's fear of unwittingly teleporting into a solid object proved unfounded as their innate abilities prevented them from occupying the same space as any preexisting object or person, immaterial of the belts and bands.

Without these self-imposed limitations, the next wave of breakouts was able to quickly develop naturally, gaining range and accuracy in weeks instead of years. Even though he had already unlearned what he had learned, Stephen was still tinged by jealousy when he thought of where he could be had he honed his TP powers by trial-and-error instead of under inaccurate albeit well-intentioned tutelage.

The new arrivals entered the pub, shivering a bit at the cold. They were a couple of the next-generation People, and Stephen was reassured of the future by the fact they followed etiquette and didn't just teleport into the room. One was an American kid with a shock of bright red hair. Stephen could never remember his name, but knew it was something unusual. He met the young man during the Cyberman-Dalek invasion and liked him instantly, appreciating his sense of humor and good-natured attitude. Stephen had also met the kid's father, a retired United States general who worked with the American branch of the Torchwood Institute.

_I wonder where Patricia is,_ Stephen mused, spurred by his passing thought of Torchwood. Patricia Conway had attended exactly one reunion since the tradition started. On official Torchwood business, she came to the gathering a year ago to capture Jedikiah, the shape-shifting android that had plagued the original People since Stephen broke out. Disguised as Stephen, the robot crashed the reunion on its usual mission of revenge. However, Jedikiah had not seen Stephen for thirty years, and appeared as a thirteen-year-old. He was quickly dispatched, and was probably sitting in a crate in the Institute's warehouse waiting to be studied.

_The most humiliating part of it,_ thought Stephen, _was everyone seeing my fashion choices. What was I thinking?_

Patricia had tried recruiting him for Torchwood; so had the redhead's father. They had, in fact, approached all of the People at one point or another. _Cybermen, Daleks,, and Time Lords, oh my,_ Stephen thought. He mentally shuddered at the prospect.

Philosophically, he had nothing against the Institute. There were plenty of hostile aliens out there, and Earth had been moved off the Galactic Trig's "closed world" roster. Basically, homosapiens now had to deal with aliens on their own. There were plenty of folks to help out; Torchwood, rogue Time Lords, metahumans, and freelancers…but Stephen felt had had done his bit for the planet. It was time to pursue higher callings.

_Am I going to be too early if I arrive now?_

Elizabeth's familiar presence entered his mind, causing him to smile. _Not if you want to see John brood, Tyso, Kenny, and Andrew try to drink each other under the table, or kids half our age with twice our abilities, _he sent back.

Her telepathic laughter confirmed her mood. _How about you buy me a drink, then we catch up?_

_Works for me,_ he thought to her, even as he saw the brief pyrotechnics of teleportation outside. She entered the pub, fashionable and sophisticated and composed. A chorus of "hellos" echoed around the room, with more personal telepathic greetings issued by the older crowd. Tyso bounded over and embraced her in a bear hug. When she was released, more formal hugs were offered from Adam and Ami.

While greeting Mike and Hsui Tai, Elizabeth caught Stephen's eye. The glance said, _See? It's really all right. The world's in good hands with these kids. We're still a family, no matter what. We'll talk to John. We'll get him to stay. And we'll grieve for TIM and move on._

Stephen grinned for the first time all evening, broad and open. As he pulled out some notes to order a round for Elizabeth and himself, he thought, _Yeah. It really is all right._


End file.
